


We cried for you

by TheIceQueen



Series: Buttercreams and friends prompts. [10]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anger, Anxiety Attacks, Apologies, Best Friends, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Comfort/Angst, Confrontations, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Fear of Death, Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hugs, Men Crying, Platonic Relationships, Self-Doubt, Sobbing, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 08:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Prompt:I miss watching conor with the gang. So would you write something like when he return to london, conor is worried that they wont be as close anymore or would treat him differently. Maybe they found him having a breakdown or panic attack alone during their meetup.. Turns up conor is overthinking it and they ofcourse still love him.





	We cried for you

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned out a bit more violent/rough than first intended... and a bit longer...

It would have been better if they hadn’t come. It would have been easier if they hadn’t seemed so happy to see him. But Joe and Byron had been waving and jumping like a couple of sports fans when he arrived at the airport. Joe had practically jumped him when hugging him and Byron had given him a hug that he almost didn’t escape from conscious.

The soft morning light, shining through the backseat window in small bursts between buildings, would at any other time have put him to sleep after such a long travel. Jetlag would set in soon too, but he wasn’t even blinking. Byron had taken the passenger seat and Joe was next to him. He looked calm, like nothing in the world could bring him off balance. Conor whished he could be that way. Most of the time he could, but not today.

Was it a mistake coming home? Should he just have stayed at their parents’ and called Jack when he’d gotten there? That way he wouldn’t have had to face the entire gang at once. The friends he used to be so close to. The friends he’d only talked to over facetime the last year. The friends he’d left. Abandoned, and lost contact with. Sweat was building in his palms and he rubbed them over his jeans slowly to not alarm Joe that something was off. Stealing another glimpse at Joe, Conor’s stomach turned and he quickly turned his attention to the morning rush, stating to build in London’s streets.

“Go see Jack. We’ll take the bags.” Joe nodded at the front door in Jack’s apartment complex.

Conor wringed his hands on the way up the stairs. What was Joe and Byron talking about while unloading the car? It wasn’t hard to imagine. He’d thought the conversations between any of the guys over a thousand times the last couple of weeks; _Big-shot is home. Is he expecting a hero’s welcome? He left to find fame. He left US, for a chance of fame. He should have just stayed over there._

Tears were fighting to break from his eyes. He’d missed all of them. Every single one behind that door. No matter how many or how few that had chosen to show up. Joe and Byron had shown every sign that there would be some kind of surprise gathering waiting for him. He knew then too well, and he was sure at least some of the guys had decided to fake a happy welcome. He wished they hadn’t. It would have been easier. It would have been better to face the music head on. To know for sure how they all felt, so he could try and make it right… or make a clean break. Them faking happiness to see him like this, was unbearable. He was too tired to put on a happy face when he knew all the others were faking it too. His hand was shaking when he put it on the door handle. Any sign of water in the eyes was blinked away and he took a deep breath.

* * *

WELCOME HOME!

Jack flew at him. In that second, he was glad someone else had taken the bags, otherwise he and his brother might have ended up one the floor. Jack was the only one he was sure was genuinely happy to see him, but how much had he had to hear over the past months? If the others hadn’t complained to him directly, how much had he picked up on?

The other guys formed a group around him. Mikey, Josh, Caspar, Oli, Alex, Alfie and even Zoë joined in with the tumble to a massive group hug. The faces around him seemed to be moving fast. Jumping or getting close and then away, Conor wasn’t sure. The smiles on them were big and loud, but fake. The happy and light laughter fast turned to something from a Disney-villain. Conor desperately looked for Jack, but it seemed he had left him for the lions. The edges around the faces blurred, he just manages to see Joe join in, before the crushing of his shoulders and ribcage made his legs cave under him and he ended up on his knees. In the short-lived moment without hands on him he took time to look up. Only eyes were looking down at him. The sound of people, not even laughter anymore, just loud people, moved in on him and all he could do, was protect his head with his arms.

“STOP!”

Somehow a voice had made it’s way though. He had no idea who it was or what was happening.

“STOP! Give him some air!”

The mob of dark sounds around him froze. The silence tore in his bones like white-glowing needles, but he couldn’t move. Either all the people was still holding him, or he was broken. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He deserved everything he’d gotten and more.

A touch on his shoulder made him flinch and fall to sit on the floor. Startled he clawed at the floor to get away, making it to a wall and pressed his side up against it.

“Conor?” It was the same voice. The same touch, but now on his knee. If someone were trying to help it could only be of pity. He didn’t want that.

“Hey, man?” Another, deeper voice. There was a hand on his back. A firm one… Jack. “Conor, calm down. You’re breathing too fast.”

The smoke from his burning lungs tore his throat raw. Coughing made it all worse, and he settled with the scratching sensation of hot air moving too fast. The room darkened around him and instinctively he pulled himself away from anything moving.

“Conor? What’s happening?” Jack sounded scared and another hand found his shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

There was no room between gasps to form sound and he was too dizzy to nod, but he had to let Jack know that he wasn’t totally gone. Maybe he was, but he could hear his brother. It made him feel unsecure to remove his hand from the wall, but slowly his shaking hand made it all the way to Jack’s on his shoulder. One there, he held on. He grabbed on to the only thing he knew what was for sure. The only thing he knew wanted him well.

“Let’s get him some place quiet.” It was that voice again. The first one. A kind and calm one.

He had still no idea who it was and didn’t have time to figure it out before strong arms grabbed him. Gasping so his lungs were glowing and totally blind, he tried fighting them off, but they had him locked.

“Conor. Breathe. We’re just going to my bedroom.” Jack’s voice was close to his ear. One of the arms around his back brushed over his back and somehow, he felt closer to grounded, even though his legs were nowhere to be found.

* * *

“Sit, for a moment.” The calm voice were right in front of him as he was sat down on something soft, but not nearly as steady as he would have wished for, had he ben just a little more lucid. A light touch was on both knees and the firm grip disappeared from one side.

Jack! He couldn’t loose Jack’s hold on him. Every little cell of his body worked to hold on to his brother on the other side. Muscles burned, skin too, and still he didn’t feel like he moved at all. The loss off room around him, the pain and the feeling that he could pass out any minute, scared him. What if this could actually kill him. He _felt_ like he was dying.

“Easy. I’m here.” The arm around him was tightening and for the first time he welcomed the feeling of being held. Being locked in a position was suddenly a good thing and the hand that found his shaking one was warm and steady.

The touch on his knees moved slowly to the middle of his thighs and down again. “Deep breaths, Conor. Work with me.” The hands kept moving. Unhurriedly.

It was hard to convince his hurting lungs that deeper breaths was the way to go, but eventually he managed one seemingly longer than a gasp.

“That’s it. One more, deeper.”

The next was a little easier, and the third almost felt good.

“You’re doing good, Conor. Keep going.”

Zoë…? Maybe… The touch still brushed over his thighs. It somehow made him aware of what was up and down. The firm grip from Jack and the light touch from what he believed was Zoë’s hands, stood in contrast to each other, but both made him feel safer.

With the breathing getting easier and starting too feel natural, the darkness became a grayish blur. His free hand let go of the mattress he must have been clutching on to, and rubbed his eyes to try and make his sight better. His face was wet. Had he been crying? He used his jacket sleeve to wipe the tears away. His eyes were still blurry. Was he actually still crying.

“Conor. Can you look at me for a second?”

It _was_ Zoë. No one else would be able to stay that calm with him freaking like this. And there was no other girls there, he didn’t think. Only boys. All the guys… in the other room. Conor hadn’t noticed his eyes burning until it increased and new tears fell. Wheezes formed in his raw throat as the air moved faster again.

“Conor! Stop!” Jack’s hands moved to Conor’s shoulders and his upper body was turned half way round. “Look at me!”

Trembling, Conor wrapped his arms around his torso, protecting the small, sharp movements of his chest. He directed his face towards Jack’s voice and tried finding his face trough the tears overflowing his eyes.

“Conor. Are you listening to me?” Jack spoke quieter now, but still firm and decisive. Conor fought the urge to breathe even faster and forced the sound of his gasps lower and nodded at his brother.

“Good. Whatever set this off, we’ll deal with it later. If you want. Right now you need to calm down.”

All Conor had wanted was to deal with it. Get it over with and not be held in some kind of pretend and unsure situation. He took a deep breath, just as Zoë told him earlier. It made his arms relax some and one fell to his lap. Jack pulled his brother closer and Conor melted into his embrace. Resting his head on Jack’s shoulder was the only thing he could do not to fall to the floor when his body gave up. Zoë’s light hands took his and the thumbs brushing slowly over the back of it, gave him a rhythm to hang his breathing on.

“Okay, good.” Jack sounded relived and warmth spread though Conor as he hugged him a little tighter. “Just relax now. You’re safe.”

Safe. Home had always been safe. Jack will always be. But outside the room, all the people. They used to be. Now he wasn’t sure on either one of them. Not even Zoë who did all this to help him. New tears burned their way out of his eyes and intuitively he wrapped his free arm around Jack’s back before giving in to crying loudly. Sobs, he hadn’t heard in years made their way through his throat. His legs were shaking, hands clutching on Jack’s t-shirt and Zoë’s hand and his head sunk lower and lower down Jack’s collarbone. It was embarrassing, but he had nothing left to fight it.

“It’s okay. Just sit here and relax, we have all the time.” Zoë’s fingers were still rubbing his hand. She sounded so secure in all of this, like she knew that it couldn’t kill him.

The sounds from crying didn’t stop and Conor had no idea that they ever would. “J-ja…”

“Hold off on speaking a little, big brother. You just concentrate on calming yourself down. I’ll wait.”

Conor managed to nod a little to make Jack know that he’d understood. His feet lifted from the floor and the arm around Jack tightened. Without him willing it, his body tried to make itself smaller. Zoë must have picked up on it, as she let his hand go, which quickly found Jack’s shirt on his stomach to hold on to, and removed his shoes and lifted his legs up to lie beside him.

“C’mon, Conor. Lie down just a little.” Conor didn’t welcome Jack’s try to move him from his chest. His feet pushed him closer and his hands tensed around the fabric of Jack’s shirt. The older Maynard was sure this would start all over if he let the younger go. Maybe it would actually end him second time around.

“It’s alright. I’m right here. Just lay down on my legs.” With a light but firm hand, Jack pushed Conor’s face up to look at him. He was not lying. He was right there and behind the worry and confusion, Conor noticed a smile in his eyes. Conor sniffled and while relaxing and letting allowing for Jack to move him, he stopped crying.

Jack held Conor’s head steady while guiding Conor to place it on his thigh and Zoë took the other hand as it appeared from behind Jack’s back. Lying down made it possible for the rest of his body to relax. Jack’s hand in his hair and the other rubbing his shoulder made it so he felt steady even when his body didn’t do anything to support itself.

* * *

Minutes later, or maybe hours, Conor didn’t know, Zoë spoke again. “Conor? Are you with us?”

He looked at the two smaller hands holding his, and followed the arms, shoulders and neck to finally lay eyes on the brunette in front of him.

“Zoë?”

She smiled and quickly looked over him, probably communicating with Jack, before she came just and inch closer and squeezes his hands.

“Yeah. It’s only Jack and I in here. How’re you feeling?”

His voice was raspy from the hot air moving through it, his lungs were smoldering after the fire and every muscle in his body, especially chest and arms, were sore. He wanted to turn around and sleep for days, but at least he wasn’t scared that he would die anymore. He looked at the closed door to the main room, a quick spark of nausea ran through him and he forced himself not to think about it and tried focusing on Zoë.

“O-okay.”

“Good.” Zoë made sure she was in Conor’s line of sight. She suddenly looked more serious. “Listen, this is important. Okay?”

Conor whished it was Jack’s hands he was holding. How could that small woman make him feel scared just from talking to him? He focused on Jack’s hand’s still rubbing his shoulder and messing up his hair, and gave Zoë and nod that more resembled a small tremor.

“You don’t have to tell us why this happened, but you have to help us help you. Do you understand?”

Conor wasn’t sure he got it, but it did make him feel more at ease that she wouldn’t fight to know why they were in this mess. Not knowing how to react, he didn’t, and Zoë continued.

“If it’s better to talk to someone else, you need to say it. We won’t mind. Either off us.” Jack’s hand stopped moving on his arm and only rubbed it with his thumb, as if to emphasize what she’d just said. The last thing Conor wanted was for Jack to leave him. “If you want to just sleep for now, it’s okay too. You have massive jetlag, and this had taken its toll too. The only thing we won’t let you do, is be alone.”

No matter how bad Conor wanted to sleep. No matter how exhausted his body and mind was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Not now. Not with this unsolved.

“I can’t sleep.”

Zoë looked at Jack and Conor’s little brother moved his hand out of his hair to lift his face to look back at him.

“Do you want to talk to Joe? It’s okay if I should leave.”

The small tremor was back this time as a shake for no. A hand broke free from Zoë’s and grabbed on to Jack’s wrist. Panic rushed through his body, and he could feel the fear shining through his eyes.

“Okay. I’ll stay. It’s okay Conor.”

“Conor?” Zoë almost whispered after that reaction, but Conor was fast to calm down again and looked at her. “Do you want to be alone with Jack?”

He did. He really wanted to be left alone with his brother, but what would Zoë think? Was he locking a friend out of his life again? Did she already feel that way? Why else would she offer to go? He loved Zoë. He loved all of the guys on the other side of that door. That’s what made it all so horrible.

“Hey. Conor.” Conor noticed new tears in his eyes as he looked at the girl again. “Conor… listen. You know I’ve had panic attacks before, right?” Conor nodded, not sure where she was going with this. “Whether its panic or anxiety, it can be good not to have a lot of people around. I’ve had to tell both Joe and Alfie to leave me. They don’t get mad. I’m not mad. I’ll leave you two alone. Yell if you need either one of us. It’s alright to choose. Do what helps you the best.”

Conor didn’t have time to react before she stood up and brushed her hand slowly over the back of his while letting go. She smiled caringly at him before she turned at disappeared behind the door.

* * *

“Conor?” Jack spoke quietly and when Conor looked up at his younger brother he looked into two worried and almost scared eyes.

Conor pushed himself up. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.” He sat with his legs folded in front of him facing Jack. His bother quickly turned to sit opposite him. He managed to get his jacket off. It was too hot in that.

“Nothing to be sorry about, but…” Jack looked at the mattress between them. Conor took his hand and hoped he would take it as a sign to keep going.

“…Conor, what happened? Did you get claustrophobic or something?”

Conor slowly left Jack’s hand alone and pressed both fists in his lap, trying to control his breathing spiking. Just thinking about the people on the other side of that door, made his body react in ways that would hurt, or maybe even kill him.

Jack’s hands were on his upper arms. “Conor talk to me. If you don’t, you need to talk to someone else. Joe, or maybe Josh?”

“No. It’s not real.” Conor looked Jack in the eyes, but when realizing what he’d just said he turned his head away.

“What isn’t real?” Jack was confused and sounded a bit further away, but his grip on Conor’s arms only got firmer. “You need to explain that to me.”

Jack’s eyes were burning holes in the side of Conor’s face. If Conor were to face him now, he was sure he’d go blind. He turned his head further away and down before he realized that he had to talk.

“I… I know, it’s not real. The smiles, the hugs, the… the…”

“What Conor?” Jack’s hands were frozen solid, and it seemed like he wasn’t moving at all.

“The happy welcome. It’s all fake.”

The last word were only a whisper and Conor didn’t even care that his face were getting wet again.

“Wait… Do you think none of us are happy to see you?”

The sniffle was a bit louder than Conor had expected it to be and his lower lip hurt from biting it, but he managed to nod at Jack’s question. “You are… I… I think.”

Jack let go. Left him sitting there. Broken, crying silently, but not alone. The pressure of being watched carefully, studied, were holding him in the same position.

“Hey.” The slightly shaking hand finding Conor’s cheek, tried to turn his head. Jack leaned into Conor’s line of sight. “Look at me for a second.”

Jack wasn’t hard to make out, even with the blurry landscape Conor’s damp eyes were making, Jack’s face stood clear.

“Why would you think that? It doesn’t make sense.”

Holding that eye-contact, was the most difficult thing Conor had ever convinced himself to do, but he kept looking at Jack while new tears rolled over his cheeks.

“I left. I chose music and fame. I-I lost…” His throat didn’t let him continue and he crumpled and cried into his hands laying on his folded legs. It wasn’t something he’d said out loud before. He’d thought it. Oh, he’d thought it every day for months and it had almost knocked him over every time. This time it did.

An arm was wrapped around his back and a hand brushed softly and slowly through his hair. Jack was sitting next to him. Holding him as much as he could without climbing on to of him.

“Shh, Conor. C’mon, no one thinks that. What have you lost?”

“All of them.”

Conor wrapped himself a little tighter together and kept pressing words out between sobs. “ _I_ did it. _I_ left. Why would they want me back? None of it is real. It’s just because they have to. It’s all pretend.”

Conor didn’t even feel embarrassed that he was blurting out everything and crying loudly, while held together by his little brother. The weight from the last months, from the time the thought briefly visited him on the plane when he left the first time. The weight he’d build up to extreme pressure on the flight back after being overseas for a lot longer this time. All that weight had just left him. Only sadness was left. No questions, no doubt, just pure and evil sadness.

“Conor please, listen to me.” Jack lifted Conor’s upper body into his arms and held him tight. “It’s not true. You’re overthinking it. Everyone is proud of you, everyone is here of their own will.”

Jack rocked Conor back and forth trying to calm him like a little child, rubbing him with his thumbs on his back and shoulder, where he held him in otherwise strong grips.

“It wasn’t me who invited them you know.”

Conor stilled and sniffled, listening for more. Why would they come, if Jack hadn’t asked?

“Alex called last week and asked if I was doing something. I told him no, because I know how tired you get from that journey.”

The muscles in Conor’s back and legs loosened a little and Jack clearly understood that Conor was finally listening.

“A few days ago, Joe called and told me that if I didn’t throw a Coming Home Party, he, Josh and Caspar would kidnap you from the airport before I could get to you.”

The room was quiet for a minute or so, then Conor straightened his back and Jack let go so he could sit up and wipe his eyes.

“I… I’m…”

“Do you get it now?” Jack looked straight at a sniffling, exhausted and now mortified Conor.

With no control over his quivering lower lip, Conor nodded. Jack quickly hugged his big brother and held him as long as Conor held on too.

* * *

“Do you think the others left?”

Conor’s lungs didn’t hurt anymore and his face were dry and almost back to normal color, even around the eyes. Jack smiled and shook his head.

“I’m pretty sure they’re all still there. You did put on quite a show.”

Conor couldn’t help but make a little smile with the corner of his mouth. Jack’s joking tone had always and probably always will get to him. This time it faded quickly though. Jack put a light hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe I should go talk to them.”

“I’ll do it.” Conor stood up and Jack with him, observing his every move, like he was afraid he’d fall over.

“I’m okay Jack. I’ll explain it myself.”

Jack got to the door before him. “You know you don’t have to tell them all of it, right?”

Conor walked over slowly. He hated this. He would much rather let Jack handle it all, but truth be told, he actually missed the people in that room. And no matter how hard it would be, he couldn’t keep this a secret. He wouldn’t be able to. He placed one hand on top of Jack’s on the door handle and the other on his shoulder.

“I have to. They wouldn’t understand if not, and I can’t lie.”

Jack nodded, and they opened the door.

Conor’s stomach clutched around itself and he felt the sore muscles in his torso all over again. Two steps into the room his feet stopped. Everyone was looking at him. Silent. The boys, all eight of them, sitting around the table and in the couches, just watching without a word. Only Zoë got up and walked to him slowly.

“Are you good?” She had her big and soft smile on.

Conor couldn’t help but smile a little as he nodded. She hugged him and took the place on his side, opposite from Jack. Somehow, it felt more secure to have them by his side.

“Sorry guys. I…”

After a short second, Zoë took his hand. Conor hadn’t noticed that it was shaking, but now it stopped.

“I had a major meltdown before. I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. But what happened…? Are you okay now?” Caspar was turned all the way round in the couch, almost on his knees to see over the backrest. Conor noticed his hair being somewhat ruffled and his eyes seemed bloodshot.

“I’m okay.” Conor hurried to answer the tall guy. He’d clearly upset him enough already. “I had an anxiety attack, or something, I guess. It’s my own fault, I made it all up… I worried too much…”

If possible, they all looked more confused and concerned now than the second he came out of the bedroom. Conor wanted to continue but, maybe this wasn’t the time. Maybe he was too tired to say the right things. Was there any _right_ things to say? A firm hand rubbed his back and he looked to the side to see Jack nodding at him to go on.

“I thought you were angry with me for leaving. That you thought that I’d chosen a career over you all…”

There was no way he could look at all the faces after saying that. What if one of them actually did think that? Conor would see it. He wanted to see it. He wanted to know, but he couldn’t.

A pair of feet showed up on the floor in front of him. Nothing happened. Conor took a deep breath and moved his gaze up to face Josh inches from him. Two large hands landed heavy on his shoulders and the tall ginger smiled overbearingly at him.

“You are crazy, you know that, right?”

Conor forced a small smile and nodded. Josh hugged him, and Caspar pulled him away to get in next.

“We know that you’ll never leave like that. We’re just happy you come home to see us.” Caspar was strong. Conor always forgot that he could lift him of the ground if he wanted. He didn’t this time, but Conor couldn’t help but hugging him back.

Alex, Alfie and Byron joined in for a group hug while Zoë’s hand left Conor’s and he looked at her walking away with Jack. Both with relieved smiles on their faces. Conor just stood there. He couldn’t seem to move an inch. The only thing he managed was to hug the friends he’d missed for so long, and now he knew that they’d missed him too.

After Oli, Mikey took Conor’s face in both his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. “We’re proud of you. Don’t you ever forget that we’ll always be here to support you and welcome you home.”

Hugging Mikey, Conor wondered how many tears it was possible to shed in one evening. Two more was obviously not a problem. Then he saw Joe. Conor let go of the broad shouldered man and straightened his back.

Everyone’s eyes landed on Joe. He hadn’t moved since Conor came into the room. Conor noticed some dark areas on the sleeve of his gray jumper. His face were still, his jaw locked tight and his eyes firmly directed at Conor.

Caspar turned to his former roommate. “Joe?”

Joe got up, slowly and controlled. Everything in Conor’s body told him to run or hide, but Joe had never looked at him like that before, so his system wasn’t wired to handle this.

“Joe!” Zoë stood up and took a step towards her brother. Joe didn’t react, and Alfie took her hand and pulled her down again.

One small step back, was all Conor managed to do when Joe stood face to face with him, breathing fast and hostile through his nose.

“Joe, I’m…”

“No!” Joe held a hand up to stop him from speaking. “How dare you? You scared the hell out of us. You almost passed out! We had no idea what the hell was going on.”

Conor’s stomach sank. It must have looked horrible from the other side. It had felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside, it must have looked like he was actually dying. But, Joe of all people had to have known… He’d seen Zoë. Maybe not like that, but he’d had to know that it was something like hers.

“I’m sorry… Joe…”

“I’m not done!”

“Joe, c’mon.” Mikey tried to reason but Joe didn’t eve turn when answering. “Sit down Mikey.”

Conor looked down and got ready for round two.

“You did this to yourself, and then you come out here telling us that you thought we didn’t want you here?! Look at me!”

Expecting a slap on the face, Conor willed himself to look at Joe.

“I’m wet from tears. The ones on my sleeve isn’t mine. Now look at all of them…” Joe stepped aside to make Conor’s view of the group whole.

Most of the gang was staring at the scene, paying out in front of them, with big eyes. Jack was on the edge of his seat, looking ready to jump in if it got more confrontational that yelling straight at his brother’s face. Zoë was holding one of Caspar’s hands in both of hers and Caspar had turned his head away.

“… We were scared for you! We came here to celebrate you. Don’t you dare to doubt that we love you…” Joe slowed down and he looked away from all of them. “Don’t you dare doubt anyo-one of us.” His voice cracked and Conor instinctively pulled him into a hug.

Without a sound, Joe cried against Conor’s chest. Nothing made sense anymore, and yet, everything made sense in the most wonderful way. Conor looked at the others while holding his friend tight, just as he’d been held earlier. Zoë had tears in her eyes and leaned against Alfie, who had his arm around her. No one but Conor seemed surprised about what had just happened, but they were clearly all relieved that it hadn’t gone further. Caspar stood up, ignoring the tear rolling down his face. He placed a hand on Joe’s back and Joe turned to him, letting him guide him back to the couch. Jack was right behind, taking Conor’s hand and making him sit down next to Joe.

“Joe?”

Joe sat up, from leaning against Caspar, and looked at him. Conor had never seen him like that. The burning was building again, this time higher and in the middle of his chest. He swallowed and took his friend’s hand.

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot. I should have just talked to you.” He looked around the room. “To any one of you.”

Joe smiled and nodded. “You’re an idiot alright. But we like you anyway, that’s what friends are for.”


End file.
